


Rather Be a Riot Than Indifferent

by reversecow



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blow Jobs, M/M, Sexual Tension, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversecow/pseuds/reversecow
Summary: Michael Clifford hates Ashton Irwin. He's hated him ever since Ashton bumped into him without apologizing on the first day of his third year of university. He hates him more every time they interact, which is why it doesn't mean a thing that the soul marks inked all over Ashton's body match up so well with Michael's. Because there's no way the universe hates him that much.-----A University AU where Michael is stubborn and no matter what anyone else thinks, Ashton is absolutely not his soulmate.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood, Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 125





	Rather Be a Riot Than Indifferent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fourdrunksluts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourdrunksluts/gifts).



> Happy early birthday to Ryan whomst I love
> 
> title from This Means War by Marianas Trench

Michael has soul marks all over his body. They started showing up six months ago, on the first day of his third year of university. It had been a good day over all, except around noon when he’d been walking to his third class of the day and gotten knocked off his feet by a blurry mass reeling into him. 

“Shit, sorry, man! No time to stop!” the mass, who Michael would later learn was named Ashton Irwin, an endlessly irritating sports journalism major who pops up in Michael’s life far more often than he should, had shouted loudly as he raced away. Michael had glared at him, dusting off his jeans and walking to class, easily forgetting the incident, for the time being. 

He’d woken up the next morning with his first tattoo, indicating he’d met his soulmate the day before. It was a tiny matchstick on the back of his neck, and Michael remembers thinking it was beautiful. He also remembers the boy who had run into him the day before walking past him with a small tattoo of a flame adorning the back of his neck, smirking at Michael without saying a word. 

Since that day, he’s woken up every month or so, give or take a few days, to something new inked into his skin. He loves them all, from the key on his shoulder, to the etching of Saturn on his bicep. He even loves the tiny jar of peanut butter hidden behind his ear.

And it doesn’t mean a single thing if Ashton has a padlock on his shoulder and a rocket ship on his upper right arm. It means absolutely nothing that there’s a tiny jelly jar behind his ear, hidden partially by his curly, dirty blonde hair. It means nothing because Ashton Irwin is Michael’s least favorite person in the world, and that’s never going to change. So for now, Michael waits patiently for his  _ actual  _ soulmate to show their face, and is content with making absolutely no contact with Ashton, if possible. 

**********

“What rhymes with parsnip?”

Calum’s voice cuts through the hazy spring air, kicking Michael out of the daydream he was having of skipping his art history class and staying in the exact position he’s in right now for a long nap. He’s stretched out on top of the wooden picnic table Calum’s sitting at, and Calum’s been furiously scribbling in his notebook for a good half hour. 

“Nothing,” he responds, stretching his legs slightly before he rolls over to look at Calum. “That might be a good thing, though. Aren’t you trying to write a love song?”

“Yeah,” Calum says mournfully. 

“Probably don’t include the word ‘parsnip’, then,” Michael offers, and Calum scribbles out something on his paper, frowning. 

“Fine, give me another vegetable that becomes sweeter in flavor after winter frosts,” he says, fixing Michael with a determined look. 

Michael’s mouth twists in thought. “What if you just leave out vegetables in general?” he suggests, yawning as a small breeze rushes past them, making the hairs on his arms stand up slightly. Calum sighs and shakes his head. 

“I’m not very good at this, am I?” His tone is helpless and Michael feels sorry for him, he’s been trying to write a good love song for as long as Michael’s known him, and he always falls just short of a masterpiece. Michael knows it’s because he hasn’t met his soulmate yet. Once he does, Calum’s going to be a romantic to be reckoned with. Until then, his metaphors leave something to be desired. Michael studies the frustrated expression on his face. 

“I feel like you will be,” he tells Calum. “You know, once you meet them.”

Calum sighs again, “I wonder what they’ll be like.”

“Big parsnip energy, we can only hope,” Michael muses.

Calum shrugs. “We’ll see, I guess.” He crosses something out on the paper and replaces it with something new. “At least you know who yours is, this would be easy as pie for you.”

Michael bristles, just as he always does when Calum alludes to him knowing his soulmate already. “I don’t know who mine is.”

Calum gives him a look, raising his eyebrows, and Michael glares back, but Calum doesn’t mention Ashton’s name, instead just tapping his pen on his notebook twice and asking a question. “You get anything new recently?”

Michael nods happily, lifting up his shirt slightly to show a tiny smattering of stars on his lower ribcage. He thinks they’re beautiful. “It’s one of my favorites so far,” he says fondly. 

“What does Ashton have?”

And there it is. If Michael could go one day without someone trying to convince him his soulmark tattoos are matched to Ashton Irwin’s, he’d die a happy man. He glares again at Calum, answering him haughtily, “Probably something completely unrelated, considering we’re not soulmates.”

Calum rolls his eyes and purses his lips at Michael. Michael’s phone chimes at him and he sighs, slowly getting off the picnic table and reaching down to grab his book bag. 

“I gotta go, class starts in ten,” he says, and Calum waves him off, turning his attention to his notebook. 

“See you at home.”

Michael walks away, the wet grass licking at his boots. He watches as it creates little patterns on the black leather. He hears Calum call out to him when he’s almost out of earshot. 

“Heart skip? Does that work?”

Michael thinks about the half-rhyme for a moment before he turns around, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Almost!”

He turns around and walks a little more quickly, hoping to get a seat next to Luke if he can. As he goes, he walks past a group of guys kicking around a football and laughing. Ashton’s amongst them, his shirt is off and there’s a crescent moon inked on his ribcage, right where Michael’s stars are. Michael rolls his eyes at the annoying coincidence and ignores the smirk Ashton gives him as he walks past. 

  
  


**********

Michael is happy when he gets paired up with Luke to write an essay on The Garden of Earthly Delights. Luke’s great; he's sweet, he's funny, and he lets Michael borrow his micron pens. There’s only one real problem with him, and that’s his roommate. Luckily, Ashton’s out right now, leading a class at the local gym he works for, so they’re alone in Luke's dorm room. They’re sitting together on the bedroom floor, analyzing the painting and trying to come up with a thesis. Luke’s an incredible artist, Michael’s always thought, but it’s possible that art analysis may not be his strong suit. 

“What do you think the fish means?” Luke asks after a minute of silence, squinting at the piece. 

Michael chuckles, “Really? All of this to look at and you focus on the fish?” he gestures to it. 

Luke frowns, “Not that fish,  _ that  _ fish,” he points. 

Michael furrows his brows, inspecting the painting. “Luke, that’s a blackberry.”

Lucke frowns further. “Oh. Maybe we should stick to dictation. You analyze, I’ll write down what you say.” He pulls his laptop into his lap and Michael dives in, picking apart the painting as best he can and offering positions to take, Luke either shooting him down or agreeing with him depending on the point. They go for an hour or so, until Michael’s scanned every part of the painting except one part in the middle. He points at the image of what looks to be a naked man stuffed unceremoniously into a clamshell. 

“...and that’s Ashton.”

Luke snorts and shakes his head, “I don’t know why you guys hate each other so much.”

“Cause he’s a dick,” Michael replies, plain as day. 

Lucke shakes his head, typing something out. “He’s really not. If you’d spend a little time with him-”

“Why would I want to do that?” Michael interrupts him, disgusted at the idea. 

Luke frowns and gestures at his tattoos. “Because of those?”

Michael remains patient, understanding that Luke is under the same delusion as Calum regarding his soulmarks and their connection to Ashton Irwin. “These are a mystery, Luke. They started popping up half a year ago and I have no idea who they’re connected to.”

Luke nods. “Funny. Ashton said the same thing, when his started popping up, in the same places, half a year ago.”

Michael doesn’t budge. “I hope he finds happiness with whatever poor sad person he’s destined for. I’ll be waiting patiently for mine to show their face again.”

Luke looks like he’s about to speak again, but before he can, Ashton walks through the door, tossing his gym bag down. Michael huffs, looking resolutely down at his notebook. 

“Luke, David’s using your special shampoo again, I thought you’d want to know. You said that shit’s expensive, right?” Ashton tells him. 

Luke’s mouth drops open. “He barely has any hair, I’ll sue him!” He gets up and heads towards the door. “Be right back, Michael, sorry, this is important.”

Michael waves him off and keeps looking at his notebook, ignoring Ashton’s presence as well as he can. It’s quiet as Ashton sets his stuff down and falls on his bed.

“Nice painting.” Ashton gestures to the printout they’re using. “You do that?”

Michael snorts, “Bosch.”

“Bless you.”

“That’s the painter, Ashton.” Michael points at the dead guy in the clamshell, “and that’s you.”

Ashton shakes his head at Michael, “You’re charming as ever, doll.”

Michael narrows his eyes. “I can assure you that as long as we’re both alive, I will never, ever try to charm you.”

Ashton just raises his eyebrows and relaxes on the bed. They’re silent for a minute. Or as silent as they can be with the whistling noise Ashton’s making every time he exhales. Michael looks up.

“Do you have to breathe that loudly?”

Ashton sits up, eyeing Michael with his typical annoying smirk before he drops his lower lip and starts mouth-breathing heavily, occasionally making unnecessary wheezing noises as loudly as he can.

Michael rolls his eyes. “God, I really feel sorry for whatever miserable fuck you end up with. Also, that’s your worst mark to date.” He points to the trail of bubbles on Ashton’s collarbone, pointedly adjusting his shirt so it covers the twist of seaweed on his own.

Ashton throws his hands up in the air. “You know you’re in my bedroom, right? If you’re going to critique my breathing techniques you can just leave.”

Michael gives him a withering stare and gestures to his homework. “You’re really not worth a failing grade.”

Ashton opens his mouth to retort but Luke walks in then, shampoo bottle in hand, and sits back down next to Michael, smiling obliviously. “Okay! Where were we? The fish?”

Ashton lies back, shoving his earbuds in and staring at the ceiling. Michael looks over at him every now and then with a glare, hoping Ashton can feel the hate radiating into him through Michael’s eyes.

**********

Michael wakes up in the morning with a new tattoo, a tiny O shape on his pinky. He lays in bed for a while, tracing it with a light touch. It’s the smallest one he’s gotten so far, and he ponders what its match looks like, whoever’s hand it may be on. 

**********

  
  


“What’s that one supposed to be?”

Luke points at Michael’s hand, specifically the little O shape on his pinky finger, and Michael shrugs. He’s really got no clue what it’s supposed to mean, and, he supposes, he won’t know for a while. At least not until his soulmate decides to show their face. It’s cute, though, the mark, and he wears it with pride. 

“Not sure. I guess I’ll find out when I meet them again,” he tells Luke. 

Luke raises his eyebrows and Michael quickly changes the subject. “You don’t have any, do you?”

Luke shakes his head, “Not a one.”

Michael nods. There’s a slight tone of discomfort in the air and he feels like he may have overstepped. Luke is quiet, flipping through pages in the library book he’s poring over, and Michael shifts in his chair before he speaks again. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Luke shakes his head, “Nah, it doesn’t really bother me. I’m a majority right now, aren’t I?” 

He’s referring to his youth- plenty of people don’t have marks yet in their early twenties, Michael himself was surprised when his showed up.

“Besides,” Luke continues, “I wouldn’t know what to do if I found them. I’m not good at romance.”

Michael bops his head from side to side, thinking of Calum’s parsnip song, “You’re not the only one. I bet once you find them, it’ll come naturally.”

Luke shrugs and writes something down in his notebook. “So, we think the berries are a metaphor for hallucinogens?”

Michael accepts the change of subject easily, and they get back on track with their schoolwork, writing together in comfortable silence. The light pouring through the windows gets dimmer and dimmer and It’s nearing time for the library to close when Michael looks up to ask Luke a question and he sees Ashton walking towards them. He wrinkles his nose, looking back down at his book and bracing himself. 

“Got you a muffin,” he hears Ashton tell Luke, and he watches as he drops a paper pastry bag from the on campus bakery in front of him. Luke looks at him like he’s an angel. 

“God, thank you. I’m starving,” he says, opening the bag and popping a bit of muffin in his mouth. Michael supposes it was nice of Ashton to bring Luke a snack, providing he didn’t lace the muffin with arsenic or something of the sort. Michael wouldn’t put it past him. He also tries to keep the jealous look off his face as he watches Luke eat, feeling suddenly very much in the mood for a muffin. He's trying to remember the last time he ate when Ashton interrupts his thoughts.

“Clifford.”

Michael looks up at Ashton, keeping his gaze disdainful as possible. 

“Ah,” Ashton says, dropping his elbows to the tabletop and resting his head in his hands, looking Michael in the eye, “no day is complete without seeing your distaste for me shining through in your usually dull, dull eyes.”

Michael narrows his eyes, which are twinkling and beautiful, thank you very much, and he snaps his book shut.

“I see you decided to stop using deodorant,” he says conversationally.

Ashton frowns, “I’m way too far away from you to smell.”

Michael shakes his head, “I said I  _ see.  _ You’re a walking sweat stain.” 

It’s kind of true, because Ashton clearly just finished working out or something, he’s sweating through his clothes and from an objective standpoint, were it someone else, Michael might say it was attractive, the way his damp shirt clings to the muscles on his torso and showcases them. As it stands, it isn’t someone else, it’s Ashton, and his sweat is distracting and annoying. He probably stinks.

Ashton tilts his head at Michael. “That’s what happens when you work out, you should try it.”

“Are you implying something?” Michael asks sharply. He expects Ashton to hit him with something scathing, but instead Ashton’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head in denial.

“No, I-”

Michael just looks at him with eyebrows raised.

Ashton huffs, “No. I’m not, I swear, I’d never. You’re, um.”

Michael waits some more, and when Ashton doesn’t say anything else, he just nods slowly. “You have a way with words.”

Instead of responding, Ashton just stares at Michael for a moment, before a small smile graces his face and he chuckles. Michael frowns further, unnerved by such a sweet reaction when he was expecting something far more sour. Ashton just keeps giggling for a bit before he slaps Luke’s shoulder lightly.

“Come on, Luke, I’ll make us dinner,” he grins.

Luke, who has already finished his muffin, nods and starts gathering his stuff. Ashton pulls himself up slightly off his elbows and rests his hands on the chair in front of him, tapping out a beat. Michael looks down and sees a tiny X marked on his pinky finger. He frowns, crossing his arms to cover his own hand. He looks up at Ashton’s face and sees him smirking slightly. Luke grabs the last of his things and waves goodbye to Michael, heading out the door. Ashton waves too, winking at Michael. 

“See you around, doll.”

Michael grimaces, “Hope not.”

  
  


**********

Their next art history class goes well. Michael and Luke are ahead of schedule with their essay, and ahead of most people in their class. They’re walking out the door together now and Michael’s feeling optimistic, they probably only have four more sessions together or so before they’ll be ready to submit. 

“So, library tomorrow?” he asks.

Luke nods enthusiastically, “Yeah! I want to get-”

They turn the corner and both crash into Calum, knocking him from where he's leaning against the wall outside the art building. He stumbles back at the impact. 

“Careful, I’m fragile!” 

He spreads his arms out wide to balance himself, and Michael snorts at the picture he makes, but Luke looks concerned. 

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry, are you hurt?” Luke asks, scanning Calum’s body like he’s checking if they broke one of his bones. 

Michael smiles, “Ignore him, he’s not hurt, he’s just dramatic.”

Luke frowns, still looking worried, and now looking like he thinks Michael might be a little rude. 

Michael explains, “This is my roommate. Luke, Calum. Calum, Luke.”

Calum smiles at Luke and Luke gives him a little wave, smiling back, “Ah, I see. Nice to meet you. You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

“You too!” Calum says. “And I’ll recover. Give me a couple years.”

Luke giggles and Calum smiles wider before he turns to Michael. “I decided we’re going to a movie tonight.” 

“I’m down,” Michael says easily. He could use a fun night. 

Calum turns back to Luke. “Luke, you wanna come?”

Luke shakes his head and he looks only slightly disappointed when he tells them, “Sorry, Ashton and I have plans.”

“My condolences,” Michael says mournfully. Luke just smiles and shakes his head. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at three?”

Michael salutes him and Luke waves to them both as they part ways, Michael and Calum heading to the movie theater together, chatting about Calum's music class.

  
  


**********

Michael’s been sitting in the library waiting for Luke for a while now; he's about forty minutes late. Michael thought about texting but somehow they both neglected to exchange numbers at the beginning of their project. He’s planning on waiting until four and then packing up, doing the rest of today’s work at his dorm. He’s engrossed in his book when something gets placed in front of him on the table and he looks at it. It’s a paper bag from the coffee shop. He looks up further to see Ashton standing in front of him.

Michael gestures at the bag. “What’s this? Molotov cocktail?”

“It’s a muffin.” He sits down across from Michael crossing his arms over his chest. 

Michael stares at him, untrusting. “Why did you bring me a muffin?”

Ashton huffs, “I didn’t.”

Michael looks at him blankly. 

Ashton sighs, explaining, “Luke said to tell you he can’t make it. Something came up and he has to bail today. I got the muffin for him. But now he’s not here.”

“Why don’t you just eat it?” Michael counters, looking at the bag with narrowed eyes.

Ashton shakes his head, “I don’t eat carbs.”

“Of course you don’t,” Michael rolls his eyes and opens the bag cautiously. It is in fact a muffin. He chews it slowly. It's incredible, but he doesn’t tell Ashton this. 

For some reason, Ashton stays seated, watching Michael eat. He speaks after a couple minutes silence, “How’s your weird painting project going?”

“Fine,” Michael replies absentmindedly, crossing out a few words on his paper, “How are your sweaty armpits?”

He looks up and sees Ashton smiling a little at his words and Michael smiles back for a second before he remembers to glare. 

“Dry,” Ashton replies finally. 

“Congratulations,” Michael supplies. “So, where’s Luke? Why couldn’t he come?”

Ashton shrugs. “He didn’t specify. But it seemed important. Not in a bad way, he seemed really excited.”

Michael shrugs. “Huh. Well, no use sticking around, I guess.”

He gets up and packs his things, determinedly not noticing Ashton’s eyes on him the entire time. He feels his face heating up slightly, feeling self conscious all of a sudden in the silence. He quickly gathers the rest of his belongings and starts walking out of the library. To his dismay, Ashton walks out with him. 

“What are you doing?” Michael asks, staring straight ahead as he heads for home. 

“Walking you home,” Ashton says slowly in a condescending tone, falling into step with him. 

“Why?”

Ashton hums, "It’s dangerous to walk home alone at this time of night.”

Michael snorts. “It’s four p.m.” He looks to the side and finds that Ashton’s smiling slightly. 

“Yes, but you’re very stupid,” Ashton tells him. “You could trip over something or get into someone’s van or any number of things.”

“What’s it to you if I get kidnapped or murdered?” Michael asks, kicking a pebble out of his path. 

Ashton sighs, “I’d have been the last person to see you alive, thus responsible for your death. I don’t want blood on my hands.”

Michael tilts his head to the side again, fixing Ashton with a calculating look. “I’m not sure that’s how the legal system works.”

“Like you’d know,” Ashton says, chuckling, “You’re an art student.”

That hits Michael where he’s most sensitive. He’s got enough flack from his parents and various other relatives and friends about how his major is a waste of time and money, and he certainly doesn’t need to hear it from Ashton Irwin. 

“You don’t have to say it like that,” he says, his voice quiet.

“Like what?” Ashton asks. 

“Like it’s trivial or something,” he explains. 

Ashton’s quiet for a moment and his tone changes when he talks next. He seems more serious when he says, “I wouldn’t. I don’t think it is. I’ve seen your work, it’s great.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

It’s the first time Ashton’s said something sweet to him and it takes him aback. He’s not sure what to say, so he just picks another bite of his muffin out of the paper bag and stuffs it in his mouth.

Ashton seems to think again for a moment. “And I don’t think you’re stupid, either. That’s not, uh. I think sometimes I talk before I think.”

Michael’s eyebrows furrow. “What is this? Are you having an epiphany or something?”

Ashton shakes his head. “I think I’ve decided maybe I don’t want you to think I’m the worst person on earth.”

They reach the entrance to Michael’s dorm and he turns to Ashton before going inside. “You’ve got a long road ahead of you.”

Ashton turns to face him. The light hits his face and brings out the little flecks of green in his eyes. Michael stares at them for a little too long.

“We’ll see,” Ashton says, smiling easily. 

Michael sighs, “Why do you care what I think of you, anyways?”

Ashton laughs softly. “Good question.” He gestures to the seaweed on Michael’s collarbone, exposed due to his loose t-shirt falling slightly down his shoulder. “That one’s nice.”

Michael pulls his shirt over it and crosses his arms, looking down. “Thanks.”

Ashton winks at him and leaves him by the doorway, feeling slightly lost.

**********

Michael wakes up the next morning with a tiny muffin tattooed on his left ankle. He stares at it for half an hour before he puts on long socks and starts getting ready for the day.

**********

Michael’s been trying to catch a glimpse of the tiny tattoo on Luke’s wrist for the past hour without being obvious, but it isn’t working. The sleeve of his shirt is just long enough to cover half of it. Luke’s acting like nothing is there, but he’s in an incredibly good mood, and Michael’s itching to know specifics.

“So,” Luke says happily, “all we really have left is our conclusion, and then we can proofread everything another day and hand it in early.”

Michael grins. “Perfect. I need the extra time.”

“For what?” Luke asks distractedly, typing out a sentence quickly.

“I've been working on my traps.” He jokes, flexing, and Luke barks out a laugh. Michael hears a voice from the doorway.

“It shows."

Ashton walks in, throwing his gym bag on the floor and falling onto his bed, propping his head up on his hand. Michael frowns at him.

“Don’t mock my traps,” he tells Ashton petulantly. 

Ashton gives him a dazzling grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

Michael rolls his eyes, hiding his smile in his hoodie sleeve, masking it with a yawn. The pet name doesn’t make him cringe in the slightest, which is surprising, seeing as it’s coming out of Ashton’s mouth. Rather, he finds himself feeling slightly more confident because of it.

“I thought you had a crossfit session,” Luke asks Ashton.

“It, uh, it got cancelled,” Ashton tells him. 

Luke hums, eyebrows knitted together, “I thought you were teaching it?”

Ashton clears his throat, “Oh. Yeah, uh, I cancelled it. Not feeling a hundred.”

He looks completely fine, Michael thinks. In fact, he’s probably never looked better. His skin is glowing and his arm muscles are flexing very nicely where he’s holding up his head on the bed. 

Luke pouts at him a little. “Do you need me to get you anything? You want soup?”

Ashton shakes his head. “I’m fine. Think I just need a night off.” He gestures to Luke’s laptop. “You two making progress?”

He pulls his pillow under his arms and snuggles his head into it, cuddling it a little. He almost looks kind of cute, like a cuddly teddy bear. Michael shakes his head slightly, ridding his head of the thought.

“Yeah, just the second half of the conclusion left,” Luke tells him proudly. 

“Read me what you have?” Ashton requests. 

He directs it at Michael, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs, reciting their work off the screen, “The Garden of Earthly Delights is an amalgam of fantasy and whimsy, bringing to life what some could call a perilous commentary on biblical delusion, considering the time period. Particularly notable is Ashton Irwin in the role of ‘dead guy in clam shell’, which brings a somber note to the-”

Ashton cuts him off, “Ha, ha. Sorry for asking.”

“I did say you were notable,” Michael protests, grinning. 

Ashton smiles and shakes his head. “What more could a man ask for.”

“Not much,” Michael tells him, ducking his head and typing out a few words. 

He feels a shift. Before, when they would talk like this, it would feel charged with contempt. Now, it feels almost playful, he almost  _ likes  _ it. He’s  _ almost _ sad at the idea of leaving the room when Luke suggests it. 

“Okay, I think the  _ actual  _ conclusion is finished. Do you want to meet up tomorrow at the library to proofread before we send it in?” he asks, looking at Michael expectantly. 

Michael frowns, “Ah, I can’t tomorrow, I’ve got a date.”

“What?”

Ashton’s voice is sharp when he speaks and Michael looks up to see him frowning. It makes him feel a little uncomfortable and he looks down, biting his lip. 

“Uh, a date. I’m going out tomorrow,” he says. He’d been swiping through Tinder the other night and talked to a guy for a while who lives nearby. He was cute enough and when he asked if Michael wanted to meet up, he’d thought, ‘why not’?

“Oh, neat, who with?” Luke asks curiously. 

“Uh, just someone from Tinder,” Michael tells him. “His name is Jack.”

“ _ Jack,”  _ he hears Ashton scoff from the bed. Luke starts chattering away about a Tinder date he went on not long ago, and Michael starts to pack up his laptop. He can feel Ashton’s eyes on him, burning into his skin, and he’s never been more aware that he’s the center of someone’s attention than right now. 

“...never went out with anyone off the internet again. Anyways, you have my number, text me when you want to meet up next, kay?” Luke says in a happy go lucky tone, not picking up on the tense atmosphere in the room.

Michael gets up, stretching slightly and heading towards the door. “Yeah, sounds good.”

He looks over at Ashton’s bed before he goes, but Ashton’s got his ear buds in and he’s staring up at the ceiling now, frowning, and doesn’t pay Michael any mind. 

**********

Michael’s date wasn’t amazing. Jack was nice and fun, he was easy to talk to but there was something missing. He wasn’t challenging at all, which kind of bothered Michael. He just agreed enthusiastically with everything Michael said, and rather than feeling happy about it, he’d come home feeling slightly annoyed. Michael has a text waiting for him from Jack on his phone, asking if he wants to meet up again, and he's been ignoring it for the past hour.

He’s in bed now, snuggled in his onesie, the cat ear hood pulled on to keep his cheeks warm in the slightly cold room, and he’s scrolling through his Instagram feed. Calum’s asleep in the bed across the room. He’s been in a really good mood lately, but secretive. Michael’s not pushing him for information. Honestly, he’s been so elusive it’s possible he’s not even asleep right now, but if Michael woke him up, he’d be even less likely to get through to Calum, so he lets him sleep. Or pretend, whichever he’s doing. 

He scrolls for another few minutes before he’s interrupted by a knock at the door. He frowns, putting his phone down. They don’t get many visitors, especially this time of night. Maybe Calum left something in the common room today that’s getting returned. He rolls out of bed, stretching and crossing to the door just as he hears the knock again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbles quietly as he pushes his hood back off his head, unlocking it and pulling it open. Ashton’s standing there, wearing sweats and looking tired and a little upset.

“Did-” he starts, but Michael shushes him, pointing to Calum’s bed where he’s asleep. Ashton huffs and tugs at Michael’s arm and he closes the door on the room so they’re in the hallway alone. 

Ashton speaks as soon as the door clicks shut, “Did you go?”

“Go where?” Michael asks, thrown off by the whole situation, forgetting everything he’s done so far today. 

Ashton rolls his eyes, “On your date. Did you go?”

“Oh. Yeah, I went,” Michael says softly, looking at Ashton. He feels, for some reason, a bit of regret, which is profoundly unfair, seeing as he doesn’t have anything stopping him from dating whoever he pleases. 

Ashton’s frowning at him, waiting for more. “And?”

Michael frowns back at him. “And? It was fine. Why? Why are you here?” 

Ashton’s eyes go wide and he looks at Michael with an incredulous expression, “Why am I...are you joking?”

Michael crosses his arms over his onesie. “No, I’m not joking, what’s it to you how my date went?”

Ashton makes a disbelieving noise, “No, you’ve got to be kidding me, I didn’t care that you were making this harder, I don’t care if I have to chase you for a while, I was  _ fine  _ with that, but you’re really gonna…”

Michael huffs. “I’m gonna what?”

“You’re really gonna  _ date  _ other people? Right in front of me?” Ashton asks him, and Michael can see  _ hurt,  _ plain as day in his eyes, and it squeezes at his heart in an unexpected way. Ashton runs his hand through his hair and Michael can see the little X on his pinky. He gulps and his voice is soft when he talks next.

“I can do what I want.”

Ashton glares at him. “Yeah, you can do what you fucking want. Guess it doesn’t matter who you hurt along the way, either.”

Michael is beginning to feel rather defensive, it was Ashton who came and interrupted him from his phone time in the middle of the night, dragged him out of bed to make him feel shitty when he did nothing wrong, and he’s not interested in hearing it. “I don’t know why you’re so upset about this, it has nothing to do with you,” he says, blowing a loose strand of hair out of his eye.

Ashton throws his hands up in the air, “ _ God,  _ you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, how I ended up with you I’ll never understand.”

It’s the first time either of them have acknowledged the possibility of their bond before and it startles Michael. He clears his throat and shuffles his feet slightly, feeling suddenly small where he’s standing pressed against the door, Ashton looking at him with an almost manic expression in his eyes.

He speaks, but it’s slightly shaky, and he doesn’t believe himself when he starts, “I don’t know what you-”

“Shut  _ up,”  _ Ashton groans, and before Michael can register what’s happening, he’s surging forward and kissing Michael hard. Michael gasps into his mouth, and it’s half from shock and half from the feeling travelling through his body, like an electric charge, swimming down to his toes and back up again, clouding his brain and dulling everything around him to a soft buzz. His legs feel weak and he can feel Ashton’s hand on his waist, burning even through the fabric of his pajamas. 

Ashton breaks away, breathing hard after a moment, so he can look at Michael. Michael is sure he looks a mess, dazed and short of breath and unable to focus on anything but the way Ashton’s lips look after they’ve been kissed, pink and wet and perfect. Ashton leans in again, kissing him softer, lingering, before he speaks again. 

“Do whatever you want. I’ll be around.”

**********

Michael and Luke are in the library the next day, finishing things up. They’re almost done editing, but Michael’s having trouble focusing. His mind refuses to stop drifting back to the night before, how Ashton felt against him, how his lips felt on Michael’s. How he had stumbled back into bed and laid there, trying to rid his body of the adrenaline rushing through it, trying to forget how right it had felt to kiss him. He realizes he’s been staring at the same sentence for five minutes and he shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. 

“I have to say,” he tells Luke, trying to make conversation that has nothing to do with Ashton, “it’s nice having real human contact every once in a while. Calum’s been so absent lately doing god knows what.”

“Oh, really?” Luke asks, his eyebrows raised slightly, still looking down at his work. 

“Yeah, I’ve barely seen him,” Michael tells him.

Luke hums, “That’s too bad. It must be important, whatever it is.”

He’s smiling a little and Michael looks at him curiously. He’s about to ask why when two paper bags drop on the table in front of them. He looks up and sees Ashton, who’s looking at Luke when he speaks next. 

“I was passing through. Lukey, I got you blueberry.” He turns to Michael, his face void of emotion. “You looked like you liked the one I got you the other day, so it’s the same thing.”

Michael looks down at the bag wordlessly. 

“See you at home?” Ashton asks Luke.

Luke nods in confirmation, mouth already full of muffin. “Yup! Thanks, king.”

Ashton starts walking away without another glance at Michael and Michael frowns, scooting out of his chair and following him quickly. 

“Wait up!” he calls after Ashton. 

Ashton turns to look at him. “Yeah?”

Michael bites his lip, his eyes searching Ashton’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Ashton shrugs, his expression resigned. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were right, you can do what you want.”

It’s true, but the more Michael thinks it over, the more he’s feeling like being away from Ashton all the time is one of the last things he wants to do. He’s just not quite sure how to go about being around him more, after spending all his time trying to avoid him. 

“Can you come over tonight?”

He surprises himself, saying it, and Ashton looks around like he thinks maybe Michael’s talking to someone else. When he’s looked around the vacant building a few times, he turns back to Michael, hesitant. 

“I...yeah, I could,” he says slowly. 

Michael gives him a small smile. “Seven? It’s room 66.”

“Seven,” Ashton confirms. 

He starts to walk away, but Michael stops him again. “You said you bought the muffin for Luke.”

Ashton frowns. “Huh?”

Michael bites the inside of his cheek. “Last week. You told me it was for Luke. Today you said you bought it for me.”

Ashton smiles and shakes his head. “I’ll see you tonight, Michael.”

Michael watches him go, sighing to himself and wondering what he’s getting himself into. 

  
  


**********

It’s 6:59 pm and Michael’s been pacing in his room for ten minutes. He’s not even sure what he’s doing, or what they’re going to do when Ashton gets here. He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, just that as soon as he saw Ashton this afternoon, all he could think about was kissing him again, and he hasn’t been able to concentrate on anything else. 

He looks at the clock. 7:01 pm. There’s a knock on the door and his stomach drops into his feet but he goes to answer it anyways. Ashton’s standing behind it, looking slightly unsure. 

“Hey, he says and Michael gives him a tiny wave. 

“Hey, come in,” he says, backing up from the door and going to his bed, sitting down on top of his hands. 

Ashton walks in, shutting the door behind himself, looking around curiously.

“Your roommate out?” he asks, gesturing to Calum’s empty bed. 

Michael nods, “Yeah, he’s been out a lot lately.”

“Same with Luke, '' Ashton says, sitting down next to Michael on his bed. Michael shifts where he’s sitting on his hands. He can feel the heat from Ashton’s body radiating off him, and he can smell his cologne. He clears his throat, turning his head slightly away from Ashton, who keeps talking, “every time I turn the corner he’s gone. Ever since he got his first soulmark.”

It’s a welcome distraction from how good Ashton smells, the subject of Luke’s new mark, and Michael jumps on it. “I noticed that the other day, but he didn’t say what it was.”

“Some kind of vegetable,” Ashton snorts. 

Michael frowns, starting to connect the dots. “Wait, what kind?”

Ashton shrugs, “I don’t know? A carrot?”

Michael shakes his head, falling back onto his bed. “It’s a fucking parsnip. Son of a bitch.” 

Ashton looks at him curiously, slowly falling back onto the bed next to him, so they’re both lying down next to each other. 

“I think Calum’s his soulmate,” Michael explains. 

“No shit,” Ashton says. His head was turned to the side, looking at Michael’s face, but he rolls it to look at the ceiling instead. “That's pretty cute. Honestly I thought it was a kind of shitty tattoo, but he loves it. Keeps staring at it when he thinks I’m not looking.”

“You don’t stare at yours?” Michael asks him curiously. He can’t count the hours he’s collectively spent staring at the ink on his skin, memorizing every line. 

“Of course I do,” Ashton says. “But mine are all cute.”

Michael smiles at the crack in the ceiling above his bed. “Which one’s the cutest?”

Ashton hums softly, thinking for a moment. “A little coffee cup showed up the other day on my ankle. I think it’s pretty nifty.”

Michael thinks immediately about the muffin on his ankle and his stomach flips over. It’s possible that it could still be a coincidence, he thinks. It’s also possible that maybe,  _ maybe  _ it isn't. But he’s also not quite ready to say it out loud. Not like Ashton had done the night before. 

“So,” Ashton says, and Michael startles a bit, realizing how long he’s been silent for. “What can I do for you?”

“Huh?” he asks dumbly. 

“You asked me over,” Ashton explains, “am I just here to be a verbal punching bag as per usual or do we have a plan?”

His voice is teasing and Michael rolls his head to the side to look at him, pouting a little bit. “I needed to talk to you.”

Ashton rolls his head over, so they’re almost nose to nose. “Go ahead.”

Michael shakes his head slightly. “I can’t.”

Ashton smiles, shrugging. “Well. Should I go then? Or…” He starts to get up, jokingly, but Michael pulls him back down on the bed. 

“No!” he protests. “Just... let me get a little braver?”

Ashton settles back in next to him, his eyes travelling over Michael’s face. Michael thinks over his words carefully. “Personally, I don’t think our tattoos match at all. There’s no connection between them.”

Ashton snorts a little. “Of course not.”

“But…” Michael continues.

Ashton raises his eyebrows. “But?”

“You don’t seem like the worst person in the world, maybe,” Michael says. 

Ashton nods. “High praise coming from you.”

Michael looks him in the eye, and he almost loses his breath at how steady Ashton’s gaze is on him. He looks down at Ashton’s lips and he bites his own, thinking about how they felt on him, how easy it would be to lean in and feel them again. He clears his throat slightly, not moving his eyes from the red of Ashton’s lips. “I think maybe we could be friends.”

Ashton smirks. “Friends, huh?”

His voice is low and lazy and Michael feels a little hot, he squirms slightly on the bed and nods in what he hopes is a resolute manner. “Yeah.” 

Ashton looks at him for a moment, and then shrugs. “Sorry, that’s not going to work for me.”

Michael frowns. “What?”

He sighs and stretches, propping himself up on his elbow and fixing Michael with a look. “Here’s the thing. I’m tired of playing games with you. Either you hate me, like you always say you do, or you feel the same way about me that I do about you. Or a little of both. I can live with that. But we’re not friends, and we never will be.”

Michael looks down at his comforter. Ashton’s right. Even being this close to him he feels a pull towards him that he can’t deny, he wants desperately to shuffle forward into Ashton’s arms and bury himself in his sweatshirt. 

“Okay, so what do you want?”

Ashton looks at him. “You know what I want. I made that pretty clear. I’m in your hands, doll.”

Michael fights the blush that’s threatening to bloom on his face and feels himself give in slightly to what his whole body keeps begging him for. “Fine.”

“Fine what?” Ashton asks, raising his eyebrows.

Michael reaches up, fixing his hair where it’s falling in his face. “You may take me out tomorrow.”

Ashton chuckles. “Oh, I may?”

Michael shrugs, trying to look as nonchalant as he can. “If you want.”

Ashton grins and exhales hard, looking at Michael with an expression that looks equally fond and exasperated. “That’s as good as I’m gonna get from you, isn’t it?”

Michael pouts, but there’s something burning underneath him, something that keeps begging for him to make  _ something  _ happen, something that’s being tortured by lying on this bed with Ashton so close to him and not touching him. He feels a little braver because of it, and he looks at Ashton from underneath his lashes and fixes him with a coy look. “For now.”

Ashton’s eyes darken and travel over Michael’s face, he can feel them burning into his own eyes, over his hot cheeks, settling on his lips. Ashton reaches up and takes Michael’s lower lip under his thumb, pulling slightly.

“So…” he murmurs, and Michael feels a little dizzy, drunk on his proximity and he leans in slightly, not above begging Ashton to kiss him again, wanting so badly to feel any part of him, anything more than the tiny touch of his finger on Michael’s lips, but Ashton pulls away and Michael’s left with cold air next to him and the ghost of Ashton’s touch. 

“Do I get to read your essay?” he asks. 

Michael frowns. “You want to read it?”

Ashton nods. Michael gulps, trying to reel himself in from the moment, and he sits up, grabbing his laptop, opening the essay he and Luke wrote. He hands it to Ashton, who sits up too, and starts reading. He reads through it slowly, his expression changing minutely every now and then. When he’s finished, he sets it down and stretches.

“Well?” Michael asks, curious. 

“Didn’t understand a single word,” Ashton responds, shrugging. 

Michael snorts, shaking his head, wishing he didn’t find it so charming. 

Ashton stands and stretches again, his sweatshirt riding up and showing the golden skin of his stomach. Michael’s mouth goes dry.

“I’d better go. I’ll text you,” Ashton tells him. 

Michael frowns, “You don’t have my number.”

Ashton waggles his eyebrows in what he probably thinks is a mysterious manner. “I have my ways.”

He walks out the door. It’s a few moments before he pokes his head back in. “What is it?”

Michael snorts and recites his number while Ashton plugs it into his phone and then leaves for real, backing out the door and disappearing. Michael falls back down on his bed, cursing every god he’s ever heard of. 

**********

_ unknown number: _ I’m picking you up at 6

Michael stares at his phone for a solid five minutes before he adds Ashton’s number to his contacts.

_ Michael:  _ see you then

**********

Ashton gets to his door at 6:05 pm, giving Michael five extra minutes to freak out. He’s fixed his hair countless times and then unfixed it again, reminding himself that he doesn’t care if Ashton thinks he’s cute or not. He’s just unfixed it when the knock comes on the door, and he hastily makes it look nice again before he goes to the door to meet Ashton.

Ashton looks him up and down when he opens it. “You look nice. Cold, but nice,” he tells Michael. 

Michael frowns, looking down at his soft grey tee shirt. “Should I bring a jacket?”

Ashton nods. “I’m gonna say yes. Or that kitten onesie you had on the other night. I quite liked that,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. 

Michael blushes slightly and gets his denim jacket, shrugging it on and looking at Ashton expectantly. “Where are we going?” he asks, closing the door behind him. They walk down the hallway and out into the spring air, the light only slightly diminished while the sun gets ready to set.

“The football field,” Ashton answers and Michael wrinkles his nose.

“The what?”

Ashton chuckles. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is a strictly sport-less date, I promise,” he tells Michael, putting his hand on his heart. 

Michael doesn’t completely trust that. “If this is sport-less, what are we doing going to the football field?”

“Best view of the town I’ve ever found is on the very top of the bleachers, and they’ve finished practices for the day, so we’ve got it all to ourselves,” Ashton explains. “Also, dinner.” He holds up the bag he’s been carrying and Michael feels warm, suddenly, not because of the jacket, but at the thought of Ashton getting ready for this. The idea that he thought of Michael, picked out a pretty place to take him and made him food...it makes him want to skip a little bit.

They get to the field, walking through the entrance and across the astroturf, making their way to the bleachers. 

“This place is huge,” Michael says, looking up at the stadium. 

“I mean, yeah, how else would they...wait, is this the first time you’ve been here?” Ashton says, looking at him with an incredulous expression. 

Michael raises his eyebrows. “Does that really surprise you?”

Ashton shakes his head as they start to climb the bleachers. “I guess not. You don’t really strike me as the ‘school spirit’ type.”

“I have plenty of my own spirit,” Michael huffs as they near the top, starting to lose steam. 

Ashton smiles, looking back at him. “That you do.”

He holds out his hand to help Michael climb up to the very top, and even though Michael’s perfectly capable of doing it himself, he takes it with pink cheeks. They settle in and Michael lets himself take in the view. They can see nearly the whole town from here, and the sun is just beginning to set behind the hills, casting a stunning orange light over everything.

“Wow,” Michael breathes out quietly and he hears Ashton make a satisfied noise next to him. 

“Told you,” he says. “The best view in town.”

Michael smiles. “I might even start going to football games if the view is this pretty up here.”

Ashton snorts quietly. “I won’t hold you to that.”

Michael nods in agreement. “Please don’t. What did you bring?” he points to the bag and Ashton reaches into it, pulling out berry sodas and homemade sandwiches, taking the turkey one for himself and handing Michael the PB&J. 

Michael stares at it for a moment then looks up at Ashton. “How did you know I’d want this?” It’s been his very favorite food for as long as he can remember. He’d have it for all 3 meals if he could. 

Ashton smiles, shrugging. “Call it intuition.”

Michael smiles, ducking his head down slightly and unwrapping his sandwich, biting in and looking back at the sunset. “Sunsets always made me a little sad, you know.”

“Hm?” Ashton questions him. 

Michael thinks for a bit before he clarifies. “They’re unpaintable. I mean, sure, you can try, but nothing I could create would ever come close to this,” he says, gesturing to the sky and munching on his sandwich. 

“I don’t know,” Ashton counters. “You could probably do it, if anyone can.”

Michael shakes his head. “I appreciate the sentiment but I did  _ just _ tell you I couldn’t.”

“I think you sell yourself short too much of the time,” Ashton says with a sense of finality. 

Michael shrugs one shoulder. He doesn’t really know what to say. He looks over and Ashton looks back at him, giggling slightly.

Michael frowns. “What?”

“You have jelly, um…” He reaches a hand out tentatively, using his thumb to wipe a smear of jelly off the corner of Michael’s mouth. Michael feels his breath hitch and Ashton’s eyes darken. He lowers his hand slowly and keeps his eyes on Michael’s. 

“Thanks,” Michael whispers. 

Ashton winks at him. “Anytime, doll.”

The light is dimmed now, the sunset almost gone, and it’s a little chilly. Michael’s denim jacket is only slightly helping against the wind chill and he feels more drawn to Ashton than ever, he can feel the warmth radiating off him. He leans in, his eyes fixed on Ashton’s lips and he’s so close to kissing him again,  _ finally,  _ when Ashton puts a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“I want to kiss you”, he says softly.

Michael’s brows furrow. If he wants to kiss him why the fuck aren’t they kissing right now?

Ashton continues, “But I’m not going to yet.”

Michael frowns further. “What...why?”

Ashton leans back, taking a sip of his soda and raising his eyebrows challengingly. “I’m not kissing you until you admit you like me.”

“ _ What?”  _ Michael asks incredulously.

Ashton shrugs. “I’ve been burnt before. I told you, I’m not playing games. If I’m kissing you, it’s because you want me to. Because you  _ like  _ me.”

It’s said in a kind of teasing way, and Ashton may have said he was through playing games, but this feels an awful lot like one to Michael. 

“You’re going to drive me crazy, aren’t you,” he asks Ashton, shaking his head in disbelief.

He hears it when he says it, how it sounds like an admission that they have a future together, and Ashton grins at him, taking another sip before he leans in again slightly, his tone still teasing when he speaks next. 

“Is that a confession?” he asks, his eyes locked on Michael’s.

“Can it be?” Michael asks hopefully. 

“Nope,” Ashton tells him. “I need to hear it. Ashton, I want you to kiss me. I like you so much, I think about you all the time, you’re the subject of all my dreams, you’re the only-”

Michael rolls his eyes, throwing his hands in the air in surrender. “God, fine, I like you, I like you a lot, now will you please kiss me before I walk out of this stadium and-”

He’s cut off by Ashton’s lips and his own voice goes from a ringing in his ears to a distant memory as his brain turns to liquid and he makes a pleased little noise into Ashton’s mouth. Ashton moans a little bit, slipping his tongue into Michael’s mouth and sliding his hand to his jaw, cupping his face and running his thumb over his cheekbone as he kisses him deeply before he pulls away the tiniest bit, pecking Michael lightly before he whispers to him.

“Was that so hard?”

Michael makes a tiny, happy noise and leans in and pecks him again, sucking lightly on his bottom lip before he answers. “Worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Ashton smiles against his mouth, kissing him again and Michael makes a broken little sound as he kisses him back, his lips drawn to Ashton’s like a magnet. Ashton’s hands fall to his waist and he squeezes, drawing a little whine out of Michael, who’s slumped against him. His bones feel like gelatin and all he can do is lean in further, all he can feel is the heat of Ashton’s lips searing against his, over and over. He’s been thinking about this, craving it ever since the first time and now that he has it again he feels like he’s flying, every press of Ashton’s lips on him drifting him higher and higher.

He whines and drags his leg up, with some effort, so it’s thrown across Ashton’s lap, and he pulls himself up so he’s straddling Ashton on the bleachers, his arms wrapped tightly around him and their lips locked while Ashton sucks on his tongue. It’s hot and heady and he can barely breathe anymore, so it’s a miracle when Ashton pulls away, pressing kisses messily over his jawline, both of them panting. 

Ashton takes in the sight of Michael in his lap, Michael’s breathing broken and his eyes glazed over, lips wet and pouty from being kissed. His eyes travel over Michael’s body and up to his face, where he raises up a hand to brush his hair back slightly. Michael pushes into the touch, greedy for Ashton’s hands anywhere on him, and Ashton exhales sharply.

“God, you’re stunning,” he breathes.

Michael lets out what he doesn't want to admit might be a squeak, ducking his face slightly, and Ashton raises his jaw up again to kiss him, talking between kisses.

“I think about it all the time,” he whispers. “How beautiful you are.”

He kisses Michael’s neck and Michael moans, rocking his hips slowly against Ashton’s, spurred on by how affected Ashton’s voice sounds, rough and needy in his ear. 

“When I daydream in class, I’m thinking about your eyes,” Ashton tells him. He sucks lightly on Michael’s neck and Michael rocks forward in a steady rhythm, his pants feeling tighter by the minute as he grinds. 

Ashton keeps going. “When I walk home I think about your hair, how it falls in your eyes, how soft it is.” He bites down slightly and Michael chokes out a moan.

“When I’m alone at home, I think about your lips.” He kisses Michael again, hands firm on his waist, helping him grind. Michael can feel how hard he is too and it makes him feel so wanted, so much more turned on.

“I think about your body, how much I want you, always want you,” Ashton mutters, his words lost against the skin of Michael’s neck. 

Michael mewls, grinding against him hard, kissing him one more time before he pulls back. “Want you too, want you so bad, please, come back with me,” he begs. 

Ashton moans softly as Michael grinds down particularly hard. 

“Calum?” he questions and Michael shakes his head fast. 

“He’s out tonight.”

Ashton grins, kissing him one last time before he lifts Michael off his lap and throws his stuff in the bag haphazardly, taking Michael’s outstretched hand and racing down the bleachers with him. 

They take the steps two at a time, running together hand in hand when they reach the field, and as the cold air whips around them while they run towards the entrance to the field, Michael thinks he hasn’t felt so carefree in a long time, giggling when Ashton pulls him into his arms in the middle of the field to kiss him, deep and slow and perfect.

**********

They make it to Michael’s dorm in minutes, he fumbles with the key slightly before it opens and they stumble in, Ashton shutting it hastily behind them, pulling Michael into a kiss as soon as it’s shut.

“God, I wanna make you cum,” Ashton growls against his mouth. 

Michael whines, pulling him towards the bed and when he falls back on it, Ashton climbs on top of him, looking at him with a hungry expression before he leans down to suck on his jaw. 

“You gonna let me?” he asks, his voice husky, and he kisses Michael’s ear, sucking hard just beneath it before he whispers to him like he’s telling him a secret. “Bet you’re so pretty when you cum. I want to see it.”

Michael nods and whimpers. “Touch me, I need you,  _ Ashton.” _

Ashton groans and lifts himself up, helping Michael pull his shirt off and then his pants, pressing kisses to his tummy and then his thighs once they’re exposed. Michael should feel more vulnerable, spread out naked under Ashton while he’s still fully clothed, but he can’t feel anything but desire running through him, pure want coursing through his veins at the look in Ashton’s eyes, like he’s never seen anything he wants as much as Michael. Ashton’s eyes rake over his body like he’s starving and he leans down to lick at the tip of Michael’s cock, moaning slightly at the taste. 

Michael lets out a breathy keen and shoves his knuckle in his mouth, biting down. Ashton looks up and pulls his hand from his face, kissing his knuckles before he goes back down, taking the head of Michael’s cock in his hot mouth and sinking down, sucking lightly, running his tongue along the shaft and humming in satisfaction. Michael gasps, bucking his hips up lightly, and Ashton takes it in stride, letting Michael push up into his mouth slightly.

Michael closes his eyes, letting the feeling of Ashton’s mouth on him wash over him, and it’s almost too much, too good, he can barely hear himself but he knows he’s moaning, knows he’s talking. His voice sounds far away to his ears and so, so desperate.

“Ash, Ash, you feel so good, it’s so good,” he whimpers, feeling slightly lost. Ashton reaches up and threads their fingers together and Michael instantly feels more grounded, melting further into the sheets as Ashton works him over with his mouth. 

Ashton pulls off, pressing a kiss to Michael’s lower stomach and the base of his cock. “You’re so good for me,” he breathes out, “such a pretty boy.”

Michael moans and gasps when Ashton sinks back down, the fingers of his right hand digging into the flesh of Michael’s thigh as he sucks hard. 

“Oh,  _ oh,  _ fuck, Ash, I’m gonna…” he trails off and Ashton moans, bobbing his head slightly and running his tongue along the head of Michael’s dick.

“Fuck, I’m cumming, I’m fucking…”

Ashton pushes his head down further and Michael cries out as he reaches his climax, his hips rolling into Ashton’s mouth and his vision whiting out. He comes down from it slowly, trembling, and when he opens his eyes Ashton is shoving his boxers down, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it. It’s big, and so hard, wet at the tip and Michael makes a wanton little noise in the back of his throat, reaching for it. 

Ashton curses and shuffles up his body so Michael can wrap his hand around him, aiming the head of Ashton’s dick at his soft tummy and looking up at him with pleading eyes, stroking it hard and fast

“Will you cum on me? Please?” he begs, fluttering his eyelashes at Ashton. 

“Fuck, god, Michael,” he moans, his breathing labored.

Michael moans. “Please, please, I want it, cover me,  _ please, Ashton…” _

Ashton makes a noise almost like he’s been punched and he leans further over Michael, thrusting into his hand and he kisses him hard as he cums, groaning into his mouth and biting Michael’s lip, his body shaking in the aftermath.

Ashton nuzzles their noses together after a minute, kissing him again, more tenderly now and Michael returns it happily, feeling utterly boneless, but still with a sense of duty not to let them fall asleep disgusting. 

“Race you to the showers?” he asks, his voice slow and sleepy.

Ashton groans pitifully but he lets Michael drag him up anyways, pulling him down the hallway to get clean.

**********

They’re lying in Michael’s bed, warm and clean from their shower, and they’re both dozing off, Michael tracing the bubbles on Ashton’s collarbones.

“I don’t get this one yet, it must be yours,” he says curiously. 

Ashton nods, poking Michael’s seaweed playfully. “The ocean is my favorite place. I visit as much as I can, it’s where I feel the most at home. Until now.”

Michael smiles at the sheets when Ashton kisses his forehead tenderly, trailing kisses down to his shoulder before he stops at the key inked into Michael’s skin. 

“What about these?” he asks. 

Michael smiles. “My uncle was a locksmith. I used to go to his shop every day after school and play with all the old locks and keys he had in the back. I would pretend I was solving spy codes.”

Ashton grins. Michael runs his hand over the spaceship and Ashton shrugs. “Wanted to be an astronaut growing up. I still do sometimes,” he says. 

Michael frowns. “Not on my watch. I’ve seen all the astronaut movies, I know they get stuck up in the sky and never return to their families.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows, responding in a teasing tone while he pulls Michael closer into his arms. “Are we a family, now?”

Michael blushes. “I’m just saying, you’re not leaving me down here on Earth while you float around in the vacuum of space for eternity. I’d get bored.”

Ashton kisses him, brushing his hair back from his eyes. “I promise.”

Michael yawns, nuzzling into him happily. “What about the matchstick?” he asks sleepily. “And the flame?”

“Mmm,” Ashton hums. “Thought that one was yours.”

Michael shakes his head. “Not that I can think of.”

“If not, then...I think maybe it’s a metaphor,” Ashton decides. “For how we got started. I think maybe it represents us.”

“It’s always been my favorite one,” Michael whispers.

His eyes are closed now and he can feel himself drifting off to sleep when he feels Ashton press one more kiss to his hair.

“Me too.”

**********

Michael’s lying in his bed, snuggled under his covers and wrapped in Ashton’s arms the next day when the door clicks open and Calum enters, followed by Luke. They’re giggling about something, oblivious to Ashton and Michael until Ashton clears his throat. Calum looks at them with wide eyes and Michael points at the two of them victoriously. “Aha!”

Calum’s mouth twists in confusion. “What the fuck.”

Michael bristles. “Me what the fuck? You what the fuck! Were you guys just going to keep this a secret forever?” he gestures between them, noticing for the first time the little garden trowel marked into Calum’s wrist. 

Calum shakes his head. “No, this is way less crazy to find out about than  _ that.”  _ He points at Michael and Ashton. _ “ _ You know that’s Ashton, right?”

Ashton’s mouth drops open. “Hey!”

Calum shakes his head. “No, you’re great, I just mean like...are you both in your right minds right now?”

Luke shrugs next to him. “They’ve been dancing around it for weeks.”

Calum looks like his whole world has been turned upside down. “How did I not know about this?”

“You were busy,” Luke smirks and Calum looks over at him, giving him a suggestive look. 

“Gross,” Michael pipes up from the bed. 

Calum glares at him. “Gross? Weren’t you saying just a month ago that he smelled like dead plants?” he asks, pointing at Ashton. 

Ashton hums. “Hmmm. That does sound like you.”

Michael shrugs, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t recall.” He snuggles further into Ashton, who kisses the top of his head sweetly. “Dead plants or not,” he continues, “the ankle muffin doesn’t lie. I’m destined to live a smelly, smelly life.”

“You look pretty happy about that,” Luke points out. 

Michael shrugs. Yeah, he kind of is. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! Thanks so much for reading, please let me know what you thought if you have a second. And if anyone has requests for a ship they'd want written next, I'm open to suggestion, I have prompts for them all. <3


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